Knock Down Ginger
by Solstice Muse
Summary: Three different 'Mischief Nights' and three different kinds of mischief for Ron and Hermione. My Halloween treat for the lovely people who play with me here!
1. Chapter 1 Dappy Door Night

_A/N A Halloween treat for all my lovely friends here on ff dot net. A three parter covering three different kinds of mischief nights. Enjoy!_

**Dappy-Door Night **

His hands were everywhere, moving underneath her top and brushing against her skin, and she was loving it.

She was always the driving force in their kisses and this was no exception. She'd made the move, just like she always did, and as soon as she pushed herself against him his hands would start exploring. It was almost as if he was still waiting for absolute confirmation that he was allowed to hold her like that.

He was testing the waters to make sure he was still wanted. It hadn't taken her long, and confirmed by a look from Harry, to understand that Ron really needed to know he was wanted.

His hand slid up her back, his thumb brushed against the clasp of her bra, and then he moved it back down again. He was being adventurous and coy at the same time.

She knew her lips would be a chapped and puffy mess afterwards but she didn't care. School was lonely without her boys there with her. The common room was too quiet without them to talk to. Breakfast was too civilised without Ron eating across from her. She was in the familiarity of the school and back in the same routine she had grown so fond of and Ron and Harry were always wrong footed and in dangerous places with dangerous people.

At least this time they had people with them. They had information and back up and healers.

She broke the kiss and looked down. She pushed his shirt open a little and stroked his collarbone, lightly, with her fingers.

"You all right?" He asked, his voice rumbling beneath her touch.

"Yes," she nodded before looking back up at him and smiling, "I'm just grateful you didn't scar."

He shrugged.

"It was only a scratch. When you've been splinched like I have a little cut isn't anything to write home about."

"Do though, keep doing it," she demanded of him, "I want to know everything even if you know I'll worry. Write everything down for me while I'm away."

"My letters are so crap," he muttered.

"I won't mark them, don't worry," she teased, "please promise you'll keep writing to me and telling me everything that happens to you."

"I promise," he said and lowered his head to kiss her again.

They were hidden within her bushy mane of brown hair, conscious that Molly was probably sneakily peeking out through the window at them.

Hermione had been allowed to Floo to the Burrow for the weekend, Ginny had not. It was Valentine's weekend so this hadn't gone down too well for the golden couple.

Harry had gone to bed on Sunday night like a dog who'd been thrown off the leg he was humping and Arthur had practically wrestled Molly into the living room and away from the kitchen window, where she had been anxiously watching her youngest son and his girlfriend sitting on the dry stone wall.

He was still eighteen for a couple of weeks, nearly nineteen years old with his older and more mature girlfriend, and yet they weren't allowed to spend time together alone in his bedroom. Molly had spoken to Hermione about not being pressured into sex, laughable really as Hermione was in the driving seat in their relationship, while Arthur had been forced to have a man to man chat with Ron in the shed.

This consisted of Arthur handing Ron a bottle of Butterbeer and telling him to treat Hermione with respect and not get her pregnant. They drank to his agreement on both things and that was that.

It was Shrove Monday when Hermione had to go back to Hogwarts.

Harry and Arthur were attempting to give Ron and Hermione some privacy as they said goodbye in front of the fireplace but Molly was stacking hot cross buns, Easter eggs and lemons in Hermione's arms.

"They'll have lemons at Hogwarts, mum," Ron said with an embarrassed whine.

"They have their pancakes already rolled up with lemon and sugar on Pancake Day. Ginny likes to make her own, it's tradition."

"Ginny liked making them when she was 10, Molly," Arthur called, casually. "Why don't we leave them be to say their goodbyes an-"

"I know what my own daughter likes, Arthur!" Molly huffed. "Save the eggs for Easter Sunday, no nibbling them early, you hear? I know you girls and your sweet tooth."

Hermione grinned politely.

"I usually eat most of hers anywa-" Ron said as he moved his hand towards one of the eggs and swore as his mother slapped it away.

"They're for the girls!" She scolded before smiling at Hermione again, "do give one to Luna won't you?"

"Of course Mrs Weasley."

"Maybe I should give you a hand with that," Ron said as he offered his arms to take the bundle of buns.

"You can't just Floo into Hogwarts unannounced, Ron. What kind of improved security is that?"

"Sorry mum," he sighed, before grumbling under his breath, "house elves can make hot cross buns too y'know? They won't be stale either."

"Save the buns for Good Friday, there's a preserving charm on them, they're for all your friends in the common room. Now take care dear."

Molly kissed Hermione on the cheek and then helped her into the fireplace.

"Off you go now, you're running late."

Hermione opened her mouth and looked to Ron.

"Oh, well I'll...see you next Hogsmeade weekend I suppose."

Ron had had enough.

"Get out of that bloody grate," he huffed as he pulled her back out, removed the load from her arms and set it on the table, and then put his arms around her and gave her a hug. "I'll write to you with every detail of how much trouble I get from mum for doing this."

She giggled into his chest and his kissed the side of her head through her hair before stepping back towards the table and leaning to scoop up the bundle of unnecessary festive treats.

That was when a massive black soot cloud exploded from the fireplace and filled the kitchen with blackness rivalled only by Wheezes Instant Darkness Powder.

Everybody was coughing and waving the soot away from their faces. Harry and Ron had their wands lit first, then Arthur joined them and Hermione lit hers by the light of Ron's.

"Here," Ron sputtered as he held a tea towel to Hermione's face, covering her nose and mouth.

"What was that?" Harry choked.

"I send a cleaning charm up there every month and it's only just been done," Molly said with a scratchy voice.

"That's George, got to be," Arthur said as he opened the back door and attempted to waft the gradually settling soot cloud outside.

"I'm gonna..." Ron stopped to let out a hacking cough, "Should get up on the roof," he wheezed as he spoke and bumped into the corner of the table as he moved towards the sunlight filtering in through the open door, "take a look."

He fumbled around for Hermione, curled his fingers around her forearm and then slid his hand down to hers and lead her out behind him. Harry made sure Arthur and Molly got out ahead of him and then stumbled out, still coughing like a twenty-a-day smoker.

Ron squinted up at the roof, teetering in it's wonky way, above his bedroom. The chimney looked clear enough from where he stood.

"I'll get a broom," he said, hoarsely.

"Have a drink of water, Ronnie," Molly fussed as she licked her thumb and began to rub at his cheek.

Ron pulled away and looked at her with mortification.

"Mum!" He nodded towards Hermione and flashed her a plea with his wide eyes.

Molly huffed and stepped back. Ron let out a sigh of relief which ended with a thorough throat clearing and then pointed his wand at the broom shed.

"_Accio broom!"_

A rickety old broom zoomed into his hand and Ron dropped it immediately as he felt a cobweb brushing against his skin.

While Harry removed and cleaned his glasses Hermione picked up the broom and picked off all the fine threads before handing it back to a blushing Ron.

"Thanks," he said, cringing with embarrassment.

"Thank you," she said, holding up the tea towel that had protected her lungs, "be careful."

He gave her half a smile and then mounted the broom. Harry pushed his glasses back onto his nose and blinked the sight of Ron kicking off from the ground into focus. He sent his Patronus around the building and then motioned for it to patrol the perimeter of the grounds while the others watched Ron steadying himself with one foot resting upon the roof.

Ron peered down the crooked chimney and then lit his wand and aimed the light down the flue. He squinted and then pulled himself closer to get a really good look and then jumped back and spun on the broom before steadying it and swearing loudly.

"Ron!" Harry called up to him, wand at the ready to protect or catch him.

"S'okay," Ron said, grumpily, "it was the bloody ghoul!"

"Oh that thing!" Molly exclaimed in exasperation.

Ron drifted back down to the ground, circling the house as he went just to be sure there had been no other reason for the soot explosion, and landed heavily. He dismounted the broom and then held it before him with a look of distain.

"This thing handles like a snooker cue in a bath of porridge."

"I think the damp must have got to it," Arthur said as he took the broom from his son and tapped the handle with his finger, leaning in to listen to the sound the wood made.

"Oh no, I'm going to miss the Hogwarts Floo, the time lock ends in a minute!"

People couldn't usually Floo in and out of Hogwarts. McGonagall had set up a five minute connection so Hermione could get back to school for her Monday morning classes.

"Don't panic, I'll see if I can clear the fireplace, you could still make it." Ron said as he moved to step back inside.

She grabbed his shoulder to hold him back and he felt the tea towel being tied around his head, covering the lower half of his face.

"Don't go making that cough worse, you."

"Cheers," he said, the smile was only visible through his eyes, Hermione loved how expressive they were.

"You can always try Apparating to Hogsmeade and trying to get somebody to open the gates." Harry suggested.

She shook her head as she watched Ron venture inside the blackened kitchen.

"Security procedures were set in place by Kingsley, remember? A pupil can't just show up at the gates with an excuse and be let inside. I'll have to miss a day and make arrangements to come in tomorrow."

Harry smirked at her twitchy disappointment.

"I'm sure missing an appointment won't matter, you could probably teach the class," he said as he nudged her in the side.

"But we were going to master total human transfiguration today and when I practice in the common room I'm never colour co-ordinated!"

Ron stepped out of the kitchen, even filthier than he was before, and pulled the tea towel down so it hung around his neck.

"Your classmates turned themselves into a hairy china cabinet, a mermaid that was a fish on the top and a woman on the bottom and a giant boot full of internal organs." He shook the black dust out of his hair before continuing. "Your colours clashing is nothing to fret about."

She smiled at him.

"You've got dirt on your nose," she pointed out.

Ron grinned and shook his head, while Harry laughed aloud.

Molly cleared her throat and Ron rubbed at his dirty face with the tea towel.

"Um, the fireplace is totally blocked. Looks like the ghoul chucked something down there. It might have found some of Fred and George's experiments and..."

"But its never done anything like that before," Arthur frowned. "All it usually does is bang about a bit, sometimes wail."

"Take a look," Ron offered, "it's like setting tar and hardened lava got chucked down our chimney."

Harry and Arthur tried to siphon some of the remaining soot cloud out through the open door before venturing inside and attempting to clear the fireplace.

Hermione looked up at Ron and forgot Molly was still in the garden with them.

"I'd offer to clean this up for you if you hadn't said you were a big boy now," she teased.

Ron also forgot his mother was standing outside the house with them as he laughed and stepped in towards her body and curled his arms around her.

"It's different when you do it."

"Oh really?" Hermione arched her eyebrows.

"Very different." Ron nodded, emphatically.

Hermione licked the pad of her thumb and rubbed it against a sooty mark on Ron's cheekbone.

"See that's kinda nice whereas with mum...that's just rubbing spit on my face!"

"Maybe you'd like to run him a bath as well dear?" Molly interrupted, arms folding across her chest and face flushed with fury.

Ron and Hermione sprang apart and Ron's head almost burst into flames with the ferocity of his blush.

"Sorry Mrs Weasley, I'll just...maybe I can... Ron, can I borrow Pig to let McGonagall know what happened?"

"Go ahead," Ron said, looking at the grass and crippled by humiliation.

"She's still at school and you're still under my roof," Molly said.

Ron lifted his head enough to glance up at the blue sky overhead.

"Oh don't be funny," Molly huffed. "If you want to be treated like a man then act like one and not some hormone crazed teenager."

"I am a teenager, mum."

She turned and walked into the house. Ron heaved a deep sigh and plunged both hands into his hair with a groan.

* * *

"You're telling me that the ghoul did something as complex as that?"

"The ghoul bangs about all the time and where does the ghoul live? What's right next to the ghoul? Big chimney stack maybe?"

"The ghoul does nothing. It's not a complex thing like a ghost and it's not destructive, inquisitive or mischievous like a poltergeist. When you put it in your bed disguised as you it just lay there...for months on end!"

"You don't have to be a genius to pick something up you don't understand and throw it down a chimney."

"But you have to be curious and motivated enough to pick something up. The reason the ghoul makes so much noise is because it bounces off the walls. It just travels into them and then falls down. It takes days to get back up again."

"This could have been anything. It could have been an owl dislodging soot. It could have been an old joke from the twins that never worked and years later it activated. You told me that bombs dropped in the Muggle war were still live fifty years later, under the ground."

"Circumstance rarely explains anything that happens to us, Ron."

"So circumstance is impossible?" Ron said with a patronising look as he cocked his head to one side, "You'd have argued the opposite if Trelawney had been declaring that nothing is chance and everything is as she predicted."

"But this is-"

"You can't find an explanation for everything. Sometimes flukes happen and you can't drive yourself nuts just to prove the improbable possible."

"It's your job to find out whys and hows. You're an Auror!"

"And I've seen more things than you know..." something about Hermione's expression made Ron lean away from her in fear of smoke and fire shooting out of her flared nostrils and burning his face off, "...or rather," he paused to force an attempted carefree grin onto his face, "you know everything, don't worry!"

She advanced on him and prodded him hard in the chest with every word.

"You had better tell me _everything_ because I always find out and I will always make you grovel."

Ron smirked.

"You always want me at your feet don't you?"

She let out a scream, growl and huff in one second.

"You are an infuriating man!"

"Still love me though, right?"

She threw herself into his chest and his slender frame buckled a little before he steadied himself and held her, loosely.

"I do."

"I always said you were clever."

"Ron, I do," she looked up at him, cheek still pressed against his chest.

"Great."

"Ron, listen, _I do_."

His smile dropped into an expression of humbled shock.

"Sorry about that."

"I'll hit you if you talk like that." She warned.

"Sorry, again, I do to. You know I do."

"We're idiots."

"Absolutely." He nodded.

"You don't think your good enough for me and I don't think I'm good enough for you."

"You're far too good for me," Ron said as he leaned down and kissed her bottom lip.

His fringe tickled her face and she rose up on tip toes and pushed a firmer kiss against his lips.

"You're gorgeous enough to get the most fanciable girl in our year," she spoke against his lips and then held her breath as she slid her hands down to rest upon his bum, "and you might disagree with me most of the time but I love it because I know what it means."

"Oh yeah?" Ron licked his lips and tentatively settled his hands on her bottom too.

"It means you've been listening to me."

"Of course I listen to you."

"Most people let me think I've made my point and then do what they want as if I've said nothing at all."

"Most people being Harry?"

"Of course, you're the only one he's ever listened to." She chuckled and then squeezed his arse before smiling with pride in her own boldness.

"You argue with me and it makes me feel like," he kissed the side of her neck and moved his hands down a little to cup her buttock cheeks, "you think my opinion matters."

"It does, it really does," she gasped before pulling him down by the front of his t shirt and kissing him hard.

The window beside them slid down and banged hard on the 'sill, causing them both to jump.

"Crap house," Ron mumbled as they laughed, nervously, and he tried to slide the window back up again. "Huh, it's stuck now."

"Never mind that, let's get back to-" Hermione was pulling Ron back against her body when Molly's voice called up the stairs to them.

"Did you just close all the windows, Ron?"

Ron groaned and let out a deep sigh as he let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling.

"The woman's like a contraceptive!"

"Exactly how far did you think we were going to go with this?" Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and looked smug.

"I know, I know, frigid until after school...you bloody wench!"

"None of that wench talk with me, young man. I'm a mature nineteen year old woman and you're a mere eighteen year old boy."

"Ron," Molly sounded annoyed now, "was it you?"

"No mum, the window just closed itself."

"_All_ of them?" Molly shouted up the stairs to him.

He stepped away from Hermione and stood atop the stairs to look down at his mother.

"Maybe there was a gust of wind."

Hermione stepped into one of the bedrooms, mainly to straighten herself out, and check the window in there. She pulled at it but it wouldn't budge. After trying with her wand and having no success she stepped out and frowned down at Molly.

"The other window up here is jammed too."

"And just when the place needs airing out too," Molly muttered to herself as she stomped off to try and force some of the downstairs windows.

Ron turned back to Hermione and slid his hands around her waist, corners of his mouth curling upwards, and he lowered his head forward to hide within her curtain of bushy hair.

"Now where were we?"

She stepped back just as his lips were reaching for hers, leaving him looking like one of those brass door knockers of a face with a ring in its mouth - sans ring of course.

"Something's not right here," Hermione said with a furrowed brow.

"You want to try to sneak up to my room?" Ron offered.

"Turn your brain back on, Ron," she huffed, slapping him about the head, lightly.

"What?" Ron said, annoyed that the mood had been ruined by his mother, yet again.

"The fireplace is mysteriously disabled and now every window in the building has closed and locked itself? That's kind of ominous don't you think?"

"It's an old magical house," Ron said, banging on one of the walls and receiving a similar bang of reply on the same spot, "stuff like this happens."

"I spent the last eight years surrounded by the magical world, I know when something's out of the ordinary." Hermione huffed.

"Yeah but Hogwarts and the buildings in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade," Ron began before suddenly squirming a little at what he was about to say. "What I mean is, this place was built by my dad and his brother and sister, Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon too. None of them are magical architects. The reason it doesn't fall down is because of magic."

Hermione took a moment to judge how best to deal with Ron confessing that they had to live in a family made building because they couldn't afford a properly built home. Rather than sympathy that might cause him to shut her out she chose confrontation.

"They created collapsing chimneys and self locking windows did they?"

"Magic leaves...like a static or something, you know that." Ron tried to inflate his narrow chest in a confidently imposing way.

"Residual magic is one thing but you and I have both learnt not to take safety for granted. I indulged your superstition over Voldermort's name didn't I?"

"Superstition? It was a taboo. I was right to stop you saying it."

"And maybe I'm right to be suspicious of two unusual acts of residual magic happening in the same day."

Ron let out a deep sigh and accepted her point with his silence.

"Ron!" Molly called up the stairs.

"Yes mum," Ron answered, wearily.

"You're not in your room are you?"

He leaned to look down the stairs at her.

"We're not Bill and Fleur you know? We can keep ourselves under control."

"Well, of course you can. I wouldn't accuse Hermione of acting indecently." Molly saw Hermione appearing at Ron's side on hearing her name and she waved a dish cloth at her in greeting. "Hungry dear?"

Ron flung his arms wide and huffed his indignation at the ceiling while Hermione set off down the stairs to help with dinner. Ron stomped up the stairs to his attic room to corrupt himself with his right hand.

* * *

It was getting dark outside and the fireplace still wasn't completely cleared for use. While the windows remained jammed shut the front and back doors kept flapping open and banging in the light wind.

"Oh honestly, this house is falling apart," Molly huffed as she cleared away the dishes.

Ron avoided Hermione's significant look and rose from the table, dragging his chair towards the back door and jamming it closed with it.

"Thank you dear." Molly smiled before setting a scrubbing brush on the dishes and then wandering over to pat him on the cheek. "I'll get the cake out of the oven in case anyone calls."

"You wha...Oh yeah!" Ron exclaimed, brightly. "I totally forgot it's Dappy-Door Night. I haven't been home for one of these for eight years."

"What night?" Hermione frowned.

"Dappy-Door night," Molly said as she opened the door of the oven and reeled at the wave of heat that hit her, "Shrove Monday antics by the local children. Fred and George used to love it. I'm surprised George didn't come over for it."

"Maybe he didn't want to do it alone," Arthur said, with discretion.

"No, he wouldn't." Molly agreed as she fanned herself and then dabbed at her eyes with her oven gloves.

"He's forgotten I bet," Ron said as he wandered over to the family clock and looked at George's hand, "the shop's still open anyway. Maybe he's cashing in on mischief night."

"Ron, would you fetch up a bottle of Scrumpy, this'll be the first one since the war ended. I bet we get some slightly older 'kids' tonight."

Ron grinned and clapped his hands together, rubbing them, and set off down the stairs into the compact little cellar through the three foot high door under the stairs.

"I'm still not following this," Hermione shifted in her seat to look at Arthur and Molly, "Is it like Halloween or April Fool's Day?"

"Some people have their mischief night on October the thirtieth, yes, some have it on November the fourth, before Guy Fawkes night, but here in Devon Dappy-Door night is on Shrove Monday."

Hermione straightened up, always eager to learn something new, and was about to ask a follow-up question when something banged against the front door.

"Ah, first one!" Arthur beamed.

"That sounded like a rock or something," Hermione had jumped up from her seat and was looking worried.

"Stones," Molly corrected, "though they should ask for their cake before stoning the door. Some of these new families who moved here from other counties don't understand the traditions."

"What is the tradition?" Hermione asked.

"Well, sing for your supper in a way. If you want cake or cider you have to earn it." Arthur explained as he sat down and folded away the paper. "The real fun comes when the crotchety old witch inside doesn't give you anything."

"What crotchety old witch is this, Arthur?" Molly loomed over him, brandishing a rolling pin and winking at Hermione.

"People like Muriel, dear, you know the types." Arthur beamed up at his wife and she rolled her eyes and gave a tut before turning her attention back to the cooling cakes.

She had a large fruit cake and three trays of fairy cakes. Hermione would never understand how Ron wasn't as fat as Dudley Dursley after a lifetime of his mother's cooking.

"_I see by the latch," _a sing-song voice was coming from the letterbox in the front door, "_There is something to catch._"

Ron waddled back through the tiny doorway with the heavy glass bottle of Scrumpy swinging between his legs.

"Godric this is heavy!" He panted.

_"I see by the string,_" the voice sang again.

Ron looked up and wiped his brow with his forearm.

"They've started then?"

_"The good dame__'s within._"

"Come on then, my good dame," Arthur squeezed Molly from behind with both arms and chuckled, "better attend to your visitor."

_"Give a cake, for I__'ve none; at the door goes a stone,_" the singing voice began to giggle.

"No stones! I've got cake!" Molly called out and carried a fairy cake towards the front door and opened it wide.

_"Come give, and I__'m gone!_" The beaming little girl sang.

"Oh please don't stone my door," Molly begged, melodramatically, "have one of my cakes, hot from the oven. Mind you don't burn yourself, dear."

She looked down the path to the robed figure standing at the gate.

"Is that your daddy?"

The little girl nodded.

"That's nice of him to come with you so you're not lonely isn't it?" Molly called into the house, "Ron, pour a jot of Scrumpy for the guardian at the gate, he must be getting cold."

The man at the gate pushed back his hood and grinned.

"Thanks Molly, I know it's safe these days but after the past few years..."

"Oh of course, I'd be the same," Molly waved a hand before smiling down at the little girl eating the cake. "She's getting big now isn't she? Not long 'till Hogwarts."

"Daddy says it'll be finished by then," she said, brightly.

"Oh yes, all fixed up, good as new," Molly nodded.

"So it's a lot like Trick or Treating like they do in America," Hermione said to Arthur as she watched.

"Trick or treat is older than that whole country, Hermione. Did you know they claim to have invented apple pie too?" Arthur chuckled.

"Muggles are mad no matter where they come from." Ron said with a shake of the head.

"They don't mean that they invented apple pie, Mr Weasley," Hermione explained, "they just associate it with being American."

"Barmy," Ron said, still shaking his head. "Who associates themselves with a pie?"

"Well the British claim fish and chips to be their own and the potato isn't indigenous to this country is it?"

"Have some cider, Hermione." Ron poured her a jot but she was already refusing it and muttering that he was getting as bad as Harry.

"What have I done now?" Harry's voice called from the fireplace.

"You got it working!" Arthur said with delight.

"Well it wouldn't let me come all the way through but we've managed to get ahead at least," he said with a smirk.

"Exactly like Ron," Hermione groaned.

"Here," Ron said as he crouched before the green flames and held the little cup to Harry's lips, "have a drop of Scrumpy mate."

"Drinking alcohol via Floo is very dangerous, Ron!" Molly gasped. "The phrase for being drunk is legless for a reason you know?"

"What?" Hermione couldn't believe how much she was learning about the wizarding world that night, she thought she'd seen (and read) it all.

"It's like splinching," Ron explained as he got back to his feet, "only via Floo."

"The half on one side gets drunk and the half back where the legs are stay sober. Either they pull back and the top half gets lost to the Floos or they make it back and all the alcohol leaves their head, goes straight to their legs and they can't walk."

"_I see by the latch, there's something to catch._"

"What's that?" Harry frowned.

"It's Dappy-Door Night," Ron said before pushing the little cup against Harry's lips, "hold it with your teeth and take it back through with you."

"Ugh," Harry didn't really have an option as the rim of the small cup was forced into his mouth, "uh-gay. Gye!"

Harry's head and the cup of Scrumpy vanished and Molly hurried to the front door with her tray of cooling fairy cakes.

"Coming!" She called out as she went.

_"I see by the string, the good dame's within._"

Ron and Arthur turned and frowned at the back door, side them in the kitchen.

"They've come 'round to this side now," Ron said before opening the door and looking out.

"Shall I cut the cake?" Hermione said as she approached the large fruit cake with a knife.

"They've gone again." Ron huffed.

"They were gone already," Molly said as she returned, "children these days are so impatient!"

"No, they came 'round the back too," Ron said with a shrug, "I reckon they prefer playing knock down ginger than getting the cakes."

"Doing it all wrong," Arthur chuckled and sat down at the table. "I'll have a slice of that cake seeing as you're cutting, Hermione."

_"Give a cake, for I__'ve none," _the voice sang out again.

"Right!" Ron said as he ran for the front door. "if they won't wait for the cake we go straight for the chase!"

He flung the front door open and bounded out. Hermione could hear giggling and then Ron shouting.

"Want a roasting do ya?"

Arthur laughed louder now.

"Oh George really should have come, he'd have loved it!"

Hermione looked anxious as she passed the slice of fruit cake to Arthur.

"Don't you find it all a bit..."

_"At the door goes a stone!_" The child-like voice called out before the front door banged as something struck it.

"...sinister?" Hermione said as she jumped, her voice rising into a squeal.

"The well behaved ones have always unsettled me most of all," Arthur said as he took the slice of cake with a gleeful look on his face. "You know, the boys don't really like fruit cake as much as Molly's sponges? Ron's the worst with his sweet tooth."

"Yes," Hermione found herself agreeing while not really paying attention.

"_Come give, and I'm gone!_" The child's voice was moving past the door and a laugh sounded through the window on the other side of the house.

"I don't like this," Hermione shuddered.

Ron ran, panting, back into the house. He looked incredulous and slightly impressed, must like he did when the twins had done something extraordinarily daring.

"They took my bloody shoes!"

"Oh you weren't going to roast them were you?" Molly huffed as she struck Ron across the back of the head and then ruffled his hair affectionately. "They sang for goodness sake, give them a cake!"

"They're at neither door," Ron said as he grabbed two fairy cakes and marched, barefoot, to the open front door, "Oi! I'm throwing your cakes so come and get them or pick 'em outta the grass!"

He hurled the cakes out and closed the door. Arthur chuckled around his mouthful of fruit cake and Molly picked up a pair of puce fuzzy slippers to offer Ron.

"You are joking, right?" Ron blinked as he stared at them.

"You always come down with a terrible flu when you wander around barefoot in the cold, Ronnie, either wear these or go upstairs and get some thick socks on your feet."

Ron turned to grin at Hermione.

"I'm gonna go and get some socks."

He set off out of the kitchen and grabbed a fairy cake as he went, stuffing it into his mouth and jogging up the stairs while his father laughed and brushed crumbs off his lap.

"See, sweet tooth."

"He used to be in his element at Honeydukes," Hermione said as she peered through the window into the darkness, an anxious look on her face, "he'll never grow out of loving sweets I don't think."

"He's the baby boy, Molly overcompensated I think," Arthur said as he picked a fat sultana off his plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Oh what am I to blame for now?" Molly sighed, wiping her forehead and blowing her fringe from her eyes.

"Well you made such a show of Ginny when you finally got your baby girl and then you became paranoid that little Ronnie would feel as if he was second best. I remember you all distraught and baking gingerbread men for him after hearing Fred telling him that he was a mistake and that you really wanted Veronica and not Ron."

"Oh Fred," Molly sighed and looked away, "he really did torment poor Ronnie."

"He wouldn't stand for it from anyone else," Hermione said as she turned from the window to smile at Molly. It was always best to wait for her to bring Fred's name into things rather than blindside her and risk a tearful withdrawal from the room.

"Yes, he gave a boy from the village a bloody nose because they made Ronnie cry once. He looked me in the eye and said he wasn't sorry, then he called Ron a baby for snivelling and pushed him into the cabbage patch." Molly shook her head in a way that Hermione took to mean she had no understanding of why her boys were the way they were but she doted on them anyway.

Both the front and back doors banged and everybody jumped. Arthur moved to the back door and Molly scurried to the front. Hermione bit her lip and watched as Arthur stooped and picked up one of Ron's missing shoes.

"Well, that's one way to avoid a roasting I suppose," Arthur said with an amused shrug.

"You know," Hermione began, fretfully, "roasting conjures up images of hitting children with the shoes...that's not what it really is though is it?"

"Oh, of course not!" Arthur said with a laugh. "No wonder you look so worried, Ron wasn't about to beat young children you know?"

Molly returned with Ron's other shoe.

"At least they gave them back," she said with a soft smile.

"So what is roasting?" Hermione asked Arthur.

Arthur explained that if the door wasn't answered and an offering not given the door would be battered with stones as an attack on the lack of hospitality. The assailant would then run away, be followed and caught, and brought into the house a prisoner. They would then have to undergo the 'roasting of the shoe'.

"It still sounds like you beat them with a shoe," Hermione winced.

"Well if you think about it, your Guy Fawkes night is pretty nasty stuff," Arthur said as he sat back in his chair, "a terrorist is tortured and executed and you get your little Muggle children to make an effigy of him and collect pennies for his likeness on the street, then they throw him onto a bonfire and watch him burn!"

"When you put it like that..." Hermione gave a one shouldered shrug and sank into a chair at the head of the table.

"On Dappy-Door night the young ones pelt the door with stones and are caught and taken inside where the roasting involves an old shoe being hung up before the fire. The culprit is obliged to keep it in a constant whirl, roasting himself as well as the shoe, till some damsel took compassion on him and let him go."

"So you make little children put their hands into the fire?" Hermione gasped in horror.

"You really did burn Guido Fawkes you know?" Arthur said with an arched eyebrow.

"No we didn't, we hung drew and quartered him!" Hermione protested.

"So much more humane," Molly chuckled.

"You don't really burn people on Guy Fawkes night and we don't really make children put their hands into the fire for throwing stones." Arthur explained.

"Oh," Hermione felt suddenly very foolish, or at least gullible.

"You remind me of Ron so much sometimes," Molly said, warmly. "So literal, so invested in what you're telling him, it's why he never learned not to believe everything Fred told him."

"I'd never have thought anybody could say we were similar at all," Hermione admitted.

"You must have a scientific mind, Hermione," Arthur said, "think of the seven colours of the spectrum."

"I prefer the electromagnetic spectrum," Hermione mumbled, "and scientifically indigo doesn't count as a real colour."

"All those colours, so different, the red and the indigo," Arthur said as he gave her a pat on the back of her hand, "when they all come together they form white light. Split a white light and it fragments into so much colour. You and Ron are the red and the indigo, you think you are so far apart but you are the same."

"The same lovely light," Molly smiled, "like our seven," she looked upset and Hermione knew it was because one of the beautiful colours was lost from her spectrum forever. She wouldn't see that perfect white light until they were all reunited elsewhere, in another life.

There was a knock on the door and children's voices. Hermione excused herself and set off up the stairs. Molly was distracted by thoughts of Fred and the visitors calling for cake, so her mission to preserve her little boy's virtue was temporarily forgotten.

As she climbed the last of the crooked staircases to Ron's bedroom beneath the attic she heard the battering of stones against the windows. Just as she approached 'Ronald's room' the door opened and Ron hurried out, shaking his head.

"Oh, wow, you made it all the way up without being tackled away from my libido? Good for you!" He grinned.

"How are they getting stones all the way up here?" Hermione frowned.

"Magic? Ever heard of it?" Ron teased.

"I don't like this tradition, I'm sorry, it's like...I don't know...it's like harassment or bullying or something."

"Yeah," Ron looked serious and nodded his agreement, "that little girl that came to the door, she was a right thug."

Hermione shoved him in the chest and he sniggered and fell back against his door. She looked at him for a moment and then seized the opportunity and lifted herself right up onto her toes to kiss his smiling lips.

"We were gifted an extra night together, may as well take advantage of it," she said between deep kisses.

"I agree with whatever you just said," Ron said before he leaned down and kissed her again.

She could taste the sweetness of the fairy cake on his tongue.

She was so very glad that it took Molly so many tries before she got her little girl, because she managed to make the perfect man in the process.


	2. Chapter 2 Nickanan Night

_A/N Part two and this time Ron finds the local Mischief Night more than a tad unreasonable._

**Nickanan Night**

It was just like waiting for Ron to come back after liberating Harry from Privet Drive for the last time. He was supposed to have been the first back and they had waited and waited and waited.

The mission had been a success but the evacuation had been a shambles. Ron had raised his hand to offer a better plan of retreat but was told there was no time and everybody moved out to get to their strategically timed meeting points.

Harry was forcibly questioning everybody who came back and they all reported that they hadn't seen anything of him at all or that they'd seen him covering the door while the curse breakers made the building safe.

Hermione was pacing, pausing, wringing her hands, and then pacing again as she stared up at the sky. She didn't know why she was focused on the sky, he hadn't been expected to fly in on a broom, but it took her eyes off the other anxious faces.

There was a multiple Apparition event to her right and it sounded almost like a giant firework exploding on ground level. She ran towards the sputtering witches and wizards as they clambered to their feet but Harry had already overtaken her at a sprint and was throwing his colleagues aside in order to see if Ron was among them.

"Weasley," Harry barked at them, "did any of you see Weasley or the curse breakers?"

"Sounds like a pop group," one of the Aurors chuckled.

Harry dragged the man up by the front of his dirty robes and shook him.

"They were all making the building safe for you to go in!"

"Sorry, Potter," the startled man said while his colleagues forcibly ejected him from Harry's clutches.

"You're all in and out and back here making jokes so where are they?" Harry demanded.

Hermione pulled at his arm and he wrenched it away and batted at her without looking.

"Harry!" She snapped and he turned and then looked instantly ashamed for swinging at her.

"Sorry," he said, letting her lead him away from the shocked Aurors, "I've just had it with this lot. He got them in and they did what they had to do and just left him there."

"It wasn't their job to get him out, though, was it?" She said, always trying to be reasonable.

He looked at her and shook his head.

"How are you always so calm?"

"I feel like I'm trying to digest a boulder, Harry, I'm not calm."

He put his arm around her and took a deep breath.

"He's just running late again, like he always is, the sod never knows what it's like waiting."

"No, he's always the one we're waiting for," she agreed with a slight smile.

"Any minute now," Harry said with a confident smile. "He'll probably do something showy to make up for his timekeeping. Any minute...now."

They waited.

"Any time now, you'll see."

"Harry, shut up."

"Sorry."

The majority of the Auror team went back to the Ministry with their liberated hostages. Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived to wait with them and just as he was going to break the tension by saying something reassuring to Hermione a Portkey arrived.

There was a whooshing sound and what looked like a Catherine wheel of people spun out from the centre of the glowing light. The light and sound ended abruptly and bodies slammed and tumbled out in all directions with grunts and groans.

Ron was on his feet first, brushing himself down before they reached him, and Hermione flung herself into his chest and crushed him tightly. Harry huffed and tried to scowl at his friend for worrying him but could only manage a resigned smile.

"You have to get a watch and work to a deadline, I mean it," Hermione was saying as she released him and looked him up and down to make sure he wasn't visibly hurt in any way, "no lingering or dawdling. I'm serious, good timekeeping is just as important getting out as going in."

"Calm down and let him catch his breath, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh.

"This is serious," Hermione turned to scold Harry, "you could both do with a good talking to about following a strict timetable. These things should be planned and adhered to jus-"

Kingsley was helping the curse breakers to their feet when one of them ran towards Ron and told them to move away.

"Weasley?" he held Ron's head in both hands and forced him to look directly at his face, "It's okay, right?"

Ron nodded.

"What's okay? What happened to him?" Hermione leaned forward to examine Ron's face.

"FINE!" Ron shouted at her with a smile and a nod.

She jumped back with a start. Harry frowned and stepped around the curse breaker to stand at Ron's side.

"What happened, mate? What took so long?"

Ron was still looking at Hermione and then the curse breaker tapped the side of his face to get his attention again and spoke slowly and right into his face.

"I'm going to leave you," he pointed to Hermione and then Harry at his side, "with your friends. Okay?"

Ron nodded.

"I'll," the man pointed at himself and then mimed walking fingers across their line of vision, "go and get someone," then he pointed at Ron, "for you."

"OK." Ron shouted again.

Hermione was about to ask what on earth was going on when the curse breaker turned and ran off and Kingsley bounded towards them.

"Ron," he said, also leaning in so his face was right in front of Ron's, "we'll fix this," he paused to give Ron the thumbs up, "don't worry."

"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded.

"There was a banshee jinx on the doorway Ron was defending. It was supposed to catch whoever disabled the curses on their way out so they couldn't hear the final curse sealing off the whole building. Ron caught the whole thing and the others stopped the final curse and then got him back."

"So he can't hear?" Hermione clutched Ron's arm with both hands.

"Just really loud ringing at the moment. It'll pass and the Healers can probably help it along but for an hour or so he'll be deaf."

"Shit," Harry said with a deep exhalation.

Ron was looking at them all, an intent expression mingling with a lost frown on his face, and Hermione moved to stand in front of him and mouthed the words, 'You'll be O-K. I'll take care of you.'

He smiled and nodded at her, still with the creases of anxiety deep on his face, and he leaned to one side a little to try and read Harry's lips.

"Do we need to get him to St Mungo's?"

"Harry, he can't hear what you're saying," Hermione said as she spoke to him over her shoulder, keeping her focus on Ron.

"I know, that's why I'm askin-"

"HARRY?" Ron was speaking far too loud, unable to gauge his volume over the ringing silence in his ears.

While he was in fact totally, albeit temporarily, deaf Ron felt as if he was being restricted by a painfully loud feedback echoing about his skull. This, he guessed, must be what the _Muffliato_ spell must do to people.

Harry looked to Kingsley while Hermione huffed and turned away from Ron to hiss at her best friend.

"Let him see your mouth!"

Harry seemed to understand. Her tone must have cut through his need to question and organise, nicking at his compassionate nerve, and reminding him that he was a better friend to Ron if he was being attentive to him.

"Ron, mate, I'm sorry." He moved closer to him and spoke slowly and clearly as the curse-breakers had been doing earlier. "Is it painful?"

"IS IT WHAT?" Ron squinted and ducked his head lower towards Harry's face.

Harry smiled at him, sympathetically.

"You're gonna be okay."

"EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING THAT!"

Hermione linked her arm with his and gave a squeeze.

"You're shouting," she said before cringing to emphasise how loud it was.

Ron looked shocked at this and turned to Harry, who nodded and made a pushing downward gesture with both hands.

"SOR...Sorry," he whispered.

Harry laughed and Kingsley patted him on the back to let him know the Healers had just arrived.

"Sit down," Kingsley squatted in a way that looked more like he was suggesting Ron go to the toilet, "and we'll give you some potion," and he finished with a mime of drinking that looked more like he was accusing Ron of being a cocksucker.

Ron glanced at Harry, who stifled a laugh, and Hermione nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Ok," Ron whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The Healer tipped a small phial of potion down Ron't throat and mouthed some silent words to him before speaking loudly and clearly.

"While you can't hear you'll need to be extra alert. You don't know how much you rely on it."

"I'LL LIE ON IT, OKAY." Ron nodded and the Healer rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I'd better get him home," Hermione said to Harry as she took Ron's hand and looked into his eyes to make sure he was reading her lips. "Apparate home now, yes?" She spoke slowly and clearly.

Ron nodded and then looked at Harry, gave a shrug and a wave, and the two of them Disapparated with loud pops.

They were still holding hands as they walked across the uneven ground towards their shabby little cottage. It had been all they could afford to rent with their combined earnings but they were proud of the fact they could pay their own way without help.

The nearby village of Kilkhampton was non magical but there were a few private magical residences between there and Bude, on the coast. The wind was harsh and would cut through cloaks and robes to freeze you to the bone. As Ron's Auror robes whipped at Hermione's legs she stepped in close to snuggle up to him.

"Let's go home and light the fire," Hermione called over the fierce wind.

Ron whispered something at her. Hermione smiled at him and pushed his windswept fringe away from his eyes.

"I can't hear you," she spoke clearly so he could read her lips.

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Ron shouted.

She pulled his cloak open, stepped inside it with him, and closed it tightly around the two of them for warmth. She started walking towards the cottage with him and soon found herself being guided by him as her hair obscured everything other than their feet directly beneath her.

The flapping old gate was crumbling off its rusty hinges and Ron kicked it wide before rushing them through it. Hermione stepped out of the cloak to unlock the front door and they both threw themselves inside and slammed the door closed to shut the bluster out.

They looked as if they'd been dragged through a hedge backwards and slumped against the wall of the too narrow hallway, with its low ceiling, and laughed. They began shuffling off their windswept robes and kicking off their shoes.

"I'll just get the fire going," Hermione said as she hurried through to the living room.

Ron was bent right over to keep from crowning himself on the ceiling. She heard the familiar clonk of him banging the side of his head against the lampshade hanging down in the centre of the hall in his attempt to avoid poking his eye out on the cloak stand.

"Fu..." He grumbled before stooping right down to walk through the low doorframe and drop down into his armchair.

He was far too tall for the cottage but the place was built at a time when the average height was around Professor Flitwick's size. If he really stretched he could reach the bedroom windowsill in their tiny attic.

Hermione got the fire going and turned to smile at him.

"Poor thing," she said before climbing onto his lap and giving him a cuddle.

"Mmmmm." Ron hugged her back.

She leaned away a little to look at his face, then in to kiss him, and began to frown and feel beneath his hair with her fingers.

"Does it hurt?" She mouthed to him.

Ron scrunched up his long nose and shook his head.

"Good," she said as she planted a kiss against the side of his head, "you hungry?"

"YEAH!" Ron's volume almost blasted Hermione off his lap and onto the floor. "Oh, sorry," he added at a barely audible whisper.

"I'll reheat that stew from last night," she said, and then paused and realised she'd spoken too fast. "I'm making dinner," she said slowly.

Ron nodded and smiled.

"I'M GOING...to shower."

At least he was trying to stop himself from bellowing everything, she thought. As he set off for their cupboard sized bathroom she chuckled to herself at what she knew would be happening in there.

Ron would be attaching a rubber tube to both taps and then stretching it up to hold over his head and shower. The problem was he had to kneel down in the bath tub in order to get his arm over his head in the first place, the ceiling in the bathroom being lower than the rest of the house.

On more than one occasion Ron had been sitting on the toilet, forgotten himself, and stood up to flush while smashing his poor head against the incline of the roof. She'd been woken in the middle of the night on many an occasion by a loud thud and Ron swearing. There was a domed dent in the ceiling above the toilet seat because of it.

As they were renting they weren't allowed to magically enlarge any of the rooms so they had to make do.

"_Nicka nicka nan..."  
_

Hermione flinched and then froze to listen. It sounded like there was a child playing outside in the darkened squall.

"Ron, did you hear...?" She gave up on her question as soon as she realised not only could he not have heard anything but he'd also have been deaf to her asking him.

She pulled back a faded floral curtain and peered out into the night.

There was nothing as far as she could see. Maybe the wind was playing tricks. The previous week it had sounded as if a gaggle of geese were being sawn in half with a plastic comb.

The gate banged a few times and then made a splintering sound. Hermione cringed. It would be firewood soon enough and they'd have to replace it before the landlady found out about it.

She lifted the pot of stew onto the stove and ignited the burner beneath it. She lit another burner for the kettle and then set about filling the copper pot with water. She was going to make them a pot of tea but, after thinking about the stressful night and the fact that Ron must be a little unsettled by his loss of hearing for the night, she smiled and reached for the jar of hot chocolate instead.

There was a bump and then a wet squeaking sound before Ron swore inside the bathroom.

"OH COCKING...hell!"

He'd lost his grip on the bar of soap by the sounds of it. She set the kettle on the other burner and pondered going into the bathroom to help him. Maybe she could hold the shower head for him.

"_Nicka nicka nan..."  
_

She spun around and looked at the window again. All she could hear was the howling of the wind and the running water from the shower.

"Right," she said to herself, withdrawing her wand, "_Expecto Patronum!_" She pictured Ron wet and naked in the shower and conjured a bright silver otter from her wand. "Right, run the circumference of the cottage and light it up out there for me to see."

The otter did as it was told, the only Patronus ever to receive instructions such as 'circumperambulate the lake' or 'facilitate the elves exodus' and not hesitate to do exactly what it had been asked.

Ron had always found it quite funny, especially when he told his Patronus 'do what she said' or, even more infuriating for Hermione, 'do your thing'.

She looked out of the window and watched the streak of bright light illuminate the area outside the cottage, just a fraction longer than a flash of lightning would do, but could see nothing other than the shape of the flagging trees. Even when the wind died down they would still be leaning over as if caught in a mighty gale.

The science of it fascinated her ordinarily but at night she always thought it looked a little creepy. The light and shadows cast from her Patronus' circuits weren't helping at all.

"_Nicka nicka nan..." _The childlike voices began again. _"Give me some pancake, and then I'll be gone."_

Hermione blinked.

"Pancake?" She said to herself.

"_But if you give me none,_" the voice was a single one now, and much closer,_ "I'll throw a great stone."_

With that the front door banged as something struck it. Hermione jumped and squealed before clasping her hand to her chest and laughing to herself.

"Oh! It's that stupid Droopy Draws night thing again," she said to herself with relief before calling to the door, "hold on, I'll see if I have any cake!"

"_And down your door shall come!_"_  
_

With that the door banged open and the biting wind whistled in.

Both burners on the stove blew out and Hermione rushed to the door to force it closed.

"Oh great," she puffed before shouting down the hall, "Ron?"

Then she growled and locked the door behind her before stomping off towards the bathroom door. She raised her hand to knock and then shook her head at the pointlessness of that act. She turned the handle and opened the door. Steam billowed out and hit her in the face, she could feel her hair growing bigger with the humidity, and Ron only noticed the door had opened by the sudden blast of cool air against his skin.

He turned, stood upright, banged his head on the ceiling and then growled as he slammed his fist against the wall in annoyance.

"Do you have any chocolates hidden away?" Hermione tried to say clearly enough for him to lip read.

"YOU WANT CHOC-olate?" he adjusted his volume as Hermione cringed.

"It's that Dippy Door night or whatever it's called. The kids are stoning the front door and I don't have any cake to give them."

Ron looked at her and then threw his arms wide in apology.

"Sorry," she sighed and reached to hand him a towel. "It's, Ron look at my face," she pointed at herself and tried to speak very clearly, "that night...where children...sing for cake...and throw..." she mimed throwing, "stones at the door." She pointed at the bathroom door.

"DAPPY DOOR NIGHT?" Ron tied the towel around his waist and pushed his wet hair back with both hands.

"Yes! That!"

"NO," Ron shook his head with a frown, while Hermione gestured to him to lower the volume, "but it can't be, we're in Cornwall."

"I know we're in Cornwall," Hermione said with a huff.

"Dappy Door Night's only in Devon," he said, sounding a little strange, not shouting but not his usual conversational volume.

"We're one county away and they're really not that different you know?"

"What?" Ron frowned.

"Oh God this is impossible!" She huffed and turned to stomp back to the kitchen to relight the stove.

"_Nicka nicka nan..._"

"There!" Hermione raised her hand to draw Ron's attention. "The singing, just like last year."

Ron was just looking at her, warily.

"I," Hermione pointed at herself, "can hear," she pointed to her ear, "singing." She ended with an opera singer pose that made Ron snigger.

Hermione sighed and shook her head before opening the cupboards to search for something to give the local magical children.

"THEY'RE SINGING 'I SEE BY THE LATCH'?" Ron asked as he roughly dried his hair.

"No," Hermione shook her head and then realised she had to wait for him to look up at her, she lit the burners and then saw he was waiting for an answer, "no, a different song."

"WELL IT'S N-"

"Shhhhhh!"

"It's not the same then is it?" Ron whispered.

"_Give me some pancake, and then I'll be gone."_

"There!" She pointed upwards, unable to place the direction of the sing song voice.

Ron looked up at the ceiling.

"Ron," she tapped his arm and then looked into his face to speak, "they're singing for pancake." She did a pancake tossing mime.

"Pancake day's tomorrow," Ron said, looking lost.

"I know that but that's what they're asking for!"

"_But if you give me none I'll throw a great stone."_ The song was followed by a massive bang and Hermione jumped and screamed.

Ron, not having heard anything, hurried towards her to make sure she was okay.

"Stones," Hermione said, clutching her chest with one hand, "they're throwing stones."

Ron turned and marched towards the front door.

"Ron!" Hermione yelped, then lunged at him and pulled him back by the wrist. "Clothes!"

He looked down at himself and then gave a tut. He wandered up the stairs to the bedroom while Hermione continued searching for something to give the children in exchange for not battering the door down with rocks.

"_And down your door shall come!"_

There was a loud crash upstairs and Hermione gasped and ran up to make sure Ron was okay.

* * *

Ron threw down the towel and picked up a pair of pants from the floor. He gave them a sniff and deemed them passable before hopping up and down on one leg as he pulled them on.

Just as he pinged the elastic waistband in place and searched for his jeans the bedroom door flew open, hit the wall so hard that he felt it in his bones, and the glass in the window frame cracked.

"FUCK!" He exclaimed.

He leaned forward to look through the open door and saw nothing but Hermione running up the stairs.

She was talking too fast for him again but he just managed to pick out the words 'you' and 'okay'.

"FINE," he said, and on seeing her wince he consciously adjusted his volume, "what was that?"

Hermione silenced him and he was sure she told him to 'listen'. He huffed through his nose and folded his arms across his bare chest.

She mouthed the word 'singing' to him. He looked around for a piece of paper or parchment for her to write on and spotted his jeans. He grabbed them and one of Hermione's books fell from under them and hit the floor. The book opened and the shopping list she used as a bookmark caught his eye.

He handed her the paper and told her to write the words of the song, then he wriggled his way into his jeans.

While she wrote she asked him, very slowly, if he had any chocolate hidden around the house to give them.

"THEY'RE NOT HAVING MY CHOCOLATE!" Ron said before ruffling his damp hair. "I mean, no."

She rolled her eyes at him and scribbled more words down on the paper, before jumping again. Ron really didn't like not being able to hear a bang loud enough to startle Hermione. It was much eerier not to be able to hear anything when he knew how noisy it must be outside.

He wasn't used to the cottage being dead silent. There was always a swirling wind, groaning trees, and a smashing gate. She handed him the paper and he read the first line.

_Knicker knicker Nan_

"OF COURSE!" Ron sighed and groaned. "IT'S NOT KNICKERS I-" Hermione was plugging her ears with her fingers. "It's Nickanan Night. It's the Cornish version of Dappy Door."

"I said it was that," he didn't hear it but when she was gloating she was easy to understand.

"It is different but the cake or we pester you thing is the same," Ron explained. "They have clubs though, and older kids do it too, mostly boys."

He saw Hermione rolling her eyes, shaking her head and sighing 'boys'. He was about to say something else when she stooped to pick up his wet towel and then she was talking too fast for him again. He was sure he was being told off.

"Two sugars please," he answered her silent rant with his best grin.

She shook her head while saying 'tea' and then mouthed 'hot chocolate'. Ron was about to pick up after himself and say thank you when he saw the idea dawning on her that she could offer the hot chocolate to the little sods.

"HOLD ON THERE, LET'S NOT BE HASTY!"

She was gone, down the stairs and off to give away his special treat for going deaf. This wasn't fair. He tried to run after her but he had to duck and dive to avoid clonking his head on the doorframe and then the thick wooden beam running along the ceiling.

Just as he got to the foot of the stairs and jumped into the hall the front door was blasted open by the wind and cold air lashed at his bare back. He spun around and slammed it closed.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL...?"

He felt something strike the door as he pressed into it with the flat of both palms.

"HERMIONE, I THIN-" he turned to look at her as he spoke and jumped as he saw she was standing directly behind him as he shouted in her face.

"It's not the wind," she was mouthing, animatedly, "it's stones." She illustrated this by miming a throw.

Ron looked unimpressed with her pretend throw. What kind of pretend Quidditch player would she be with a pretend throw like that?

She said something else to him and waited for a sign of comprehension. He obviously didn't show it because he was shoved to one side and she opened the door and looked out.

"YOU'RE RIGHT Y'KNOW?" Ron said as he looked over her shoulder, out into the night. "OUT OF CONTEXT, NOT LIKE AT THE BURROW WITH ACTUAL LITTLE KIDS AND THEIR DADS STANDING AT THE DOOR, THIS IS REALLY CREEPY."

Hermione shook her head and closed the door. She attempted to tame her windswept hair while talking to him too fast again.

"WHAT?"

"Stop shouting at me!" She very clearly snapped.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "but you talk too fast for me to make out what you're trying to s-"

She jumped again and ran to the kitchen and flung open the back door.

Ron really didn't like not being able to hear the stones hitting the cottage. There was no wind, no Hermione chatter, no snapping from the fireplace or... He noticed that the kettle was whistling from the jet of steam shooting from the spout. He couldn't even hear that the kettle had boiled.

He padded towards the stove and picked up a tea towel so he could lift the thing off the heat. Then he smelled food cooking and realised there was stew on the other burner.

"HERMIONE I REALLY DON'T..." he paused when he noticed she wasn't at the door anymore, but it was still flapping open. "HERMIONE?"

What good was calling for her to him? Even if she did answer he wouldn't know. He paused for a moment, then pushed his feet into a pair of Hermione's slippers, and fuzzy lilac slapped his feet all the way over to the back door. He peered out. The trees were almost being pulled over, or maybe that was because they grew bent over by the wind in the first place, and the washing line was cutting through the air wildly like a whip.

He heard none of it.

Stepping out into the darkness and looking left and right for Hermione, he hated not being able to rely on his hearing to warn him if something was coming. The Aurors had trained him to do his job blind but not deaf. He felt for his wand and then hissed when he remembered he'd probably left it in the bathroom when he'd gone for his shower.

Turning back he kicked off Hermione's too small slippers and left the back door open, not wanting to shut Hermione out if she had gone outside to offer hot chocolate to some hooligans, and bounded to the bathroom.

He stooped and searched through the mess he'd made until he found his wand. The lights all went out and he was plunged into darkness.

"_LUMOS_!" His wand cast a beam of light around the tiny bathroom and he was about to lean out when the door slammed in his face.

He felt the bang, even if he didn't hear it. He grabbed the handle and turned it. The door opened again with ease, in fact the wind ripped it from his grip, smashed it against the wall and then hammered it back into his face. He just snapped his head back in time not to have his nose broken.

He took a couple of deep breaths and then turned the handle while shouldering the door open. He fell out and onto his knees on the hallway rug. He gripped his wand tightly and cast it's light up and down. The back door was now closed. He hadn't been able to hear the sound change. He cursed his lost sense under his breath and then opened his mouth to try and call for Hermione again.

"HERM-"

There was a gust of wind from the front doorway now, the door was flapping and the cloaks blew like flags. Ron held up his arm to shield his eyes from the gale blowing directly into his face and blinked some moisture into them just in time to see the last remnants of the garden gate shatter into pieces and travel on the current right towards him.

Throwing himself back into the bathroom, to avoid a flaying via splintered garden gate, Ron landed hard on his bottom and the door slammed closed on him again.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

He realised that he'd dropped his wand on the floor and felt around for it. He felt a chilly draft under the crack in the door and then saw a slither of light. He got to his feet to shoulder the door open again and that was when, in one split second, something happened with such utter inevitability he could almost have laughed.

If he'd have had time to realise he'd have laughed.

At the very moment he smashed his head against the bathroom ceiling and knocked himself out he knew what he'd done.

But he didn't have time to think 'I told you so'.

* * *

The kettle was whistling on the stove and the back door was being hammered at with rocks. She could barely hear herself think. She ran for the back door and heard herself calling back to Ron.

"Stay at the front door, I'll try to chase them around the..." Realising he had no idea she was even speaking she gave up and bounded outside to tell the boys that their fun had gone on long enough.

She ran around the cottage with her wand in her hand, not lit so she could sneak up on the troublemakers, and cursed the magical traditions that took games too far. The year before she'd been unsettled but this year she was just plain irritated.

A culture that has sports like Quidditch and pits school children against each other in Triwizard tasks doesn't understand 'my boyfriend's gone deaf and I have to take care of him of Nan's Knickers Night'.

"Just bugger off or I'll...Just bugger off!"

"HERMIONE!" Ron was calling for her.

"Stay inside!" She called back and then stamped her foot at the pointlessness of replying.

If he left the cottage to investigate they'd never be able to find each other in the dark, not with him unable to hear anything and her hearing nothing but banging and howling and singing.

"_Nicka nicka nan..._"

"_Petrificus totallus!"_ She aimed the spell at the voices and then ran towards the spot. "Move along to the next house otherwise I'll leave you like this until midnight."

"_Give me some pancake..."_

"_Incarcerous!"_ Hermione threw another spell in case she'd missed.

"_...and I'll be gone..._"

She puffed and stopped running.

"Am I going to have to stand and make you lot pancakes to get you to go away?"

"_But if you give me none..."_

"Okay!" She called into the darkness before muttering to herself. "Where's Molly when you need her?"

"_I'll throw a great stone._"

Inside the house a loud bang sounded.

"No, no, no, you lot play your game out here. He can't hear you anyway, he's deaf!"

There was no singing for a moment.

"See? That's why it wasn't funny. You're throwing stones at a deaf man. It's not nice is it?" She tried to reason with the unseen pranksters. "Now come to the door and I'll give you something for your trouble."

She was about to make her way back to the house when she heard it, louder than the washing line cracking like a whip, louder than the wind bending and howling around the branches of the trees, louder than everything else.

"_And DOWN your door shall come!_"

There was an almighty bang from the front door and Hermione ran towards it, wand raised, just in time to see the wind smash the last of the front gate clean off its rusty hinges and carry it into the cottage.

"Oh great," she groaned as she heard damage being done inside their rented home.

"He's an Auror you know? He's very important and powerful and he won't share his chocolate with anybody!" She yelled out as she ran back towards the house.

As she crunched her way in, over a carpet covered with wood chips and splinters, she saw the bathroom door was broken and hanging off its hinges too.

"Right, this is vandalism. We're not paying for that."

She glanced into the living room to see if Ron was in there but there was nothing other than the soot blown clear of the fireplace. With the persistently high winds in the area she was used to that problem, though.

"Ro...Oh, what's the use?" She sighed and the flicked her wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_" The otter darted out from her wand tip once again. "Do me a favour and go and round up Ron for me would you?"

The silver streak zoomed out of the back door and kept on going all the way into the woods.

"What on earth did he go all the way out there for?" She pondered aloud before righting some overturned chairs and taking in the mess that had been made of the floor.

"Hermione?"

She jumped at the voice and spun around.

"Bloody hell what happened to your living room?"

Hermione rushed to look inside the living room again and saw Ginny's head bobbing in green flames.

"Oh hello Ginny, it's knicker knicker nan...knick knack knocky knoo...night."

"Oh, Nickanan, right. You're in Cornwall so you get that, I forgot."

"So did we," Hermione said as she dropped into the armchair and heard both doors rattling and banging in the wind.

"They really went for it eh? Just what you need tonight." Ginny said with a shake of the head. "Harry told me about Ron. I thought I'd see how you were coping."

Hermione gestured to the mess around her.

"Yeah, Cornish people are a bit...strange. Get them the least bit excited and they don't know when to stop."

"You're just saying that because you're from Devon," Hermione sighed.

"So where is he then?" Ginny glanced around the cottage.

"I think he tried to chase them with a shoe like he did last year."

"No, you don't chase them! Not Nikanan, you give them what they want or they...well, they nick something of yours and leave it somewhere obscure for you to find it. Sort of a joke."

"Hysterical," Hermione said with no sign of amusement.

"So what have you lost?" Ginny asked, sympathetically.

"I've no idea," she said, looking around, "maybe that's why Ron went after them."

"He went after them? He's deaf, he could h-"

"I know, I've sent my Patronus to drag him back."

Ginny nodded and then grinned.

"Y'know once I heard that a group of older lads took a wizard's sundial, really heavy thing it was, and they made off with it. They took it to the beach, put it in a boat and took the boat out to sea. They dropped the anchor and then swam back to shore. His sundial was left on a boat in the sea!"

"I'm sure they were very proud of themselves."

"Well Fred and George thought it was brilliant, but obviously you're thinking of it from the owner's side of things."

"I always think of things from the other side," Hermione sighed, "that's why I'm no fun."

"Ron thinks you're fun," Ginny said with a smirk.

Hermione twisted in her seat and craned her neck to look through the doorway into the direction the Patronus had gone after him.

"Where is he anyway? He can't have gone that far, he was barely dressed."

"Oh yeah?"

Hermione ignored Ginny's comment and turned back to her.

"You know, last year the Devonshire version made me a bit uncomfortable and Ron thought it was a good laugh but this year...I'm resigned to strange wizarding traditions but Ron really didn't seem..."

Ginny's smile fell.

"Well it must be less amusing when you can't hear anything. It's probably because of the mission going wrong."

Hermione looked back towards the back door again.

"Why did he go out at all, let alone so far?"

"They must've taken his broomstick or something, maybe his wand?" Ginny suggested.

"They'd really steal a wand? Isn't that crossing a line?" Hermione frowned.

"Well it's hiding it rather than stealing it," Ginny conceded. "It is still crossing the line a bit too far though."

"Let me check," Hermione said as she got up and wandered over to the airing cupboard. She opened it and saw Ron's broom, safe and sound. "Broom's still here."

"See?" Ginny nodded. "He'd chase his wand. I bet they took his wand. They always pick something valuable or powerful, a status symbol type thing."

After chatting and glancing for Ron's return several times, Ginny said goodnight and Hermione resolved to start cleaning up the fragments of wood from the hallway. As she gathered bundles of the larger pieces she noticed one was strangely smooth. She rolled it in her palm and realised what she was holding.

Ron's wand.

She looked back out into the night, where she'd seen her Patronus darting away after Ron, and felt her whole body tense up at the thought he was out there unarmed and deaf.

He wouldn't have done that.

Ginny's words suddenly struck her and her shoulders fell.

_They always pick something valuable or powerful, a status symbol._

Then she thought of what she'd said to the troublemakers as they blasted their way through the cottage.

_He__'s an Auror you know? He's very important and powerful..._

"Oh no," she groaned.

* * *

It was freezing cold and very damp.

He was shivering all over and his shoulders hurt.

He swallowed against his dry throat and lifted his head. Then his head _really _hurt. His brain pounded against his skull, which felt as if it had split open, and his neck was painful to move.

He groaned and then held his breath as he heard it inside him, inside his head.

It was as if he was wearing a helmet stuffed with candyfloss. He could hear himself and his heartbeat, his breathing but everything else sounded muffled. He tried to put his fingers into his ears to clean them out but his shoulders hurt again and he realised they were pulled tight behind him.

Then his wrists hurt.

Finally everything hit him at once.

He was standing in the woods, at dawn, freezing cold and being dripped on by icy dew from above, wearing nothing but his jeans and tied to a massive tree trunk.

"Oh you're fucking joking," he moaned to himself, his voice hurting his head, as if the volume had been increased to a painful level.

He forced his eyes closed and tried to pull himself together. He let out a deep breath, swallowed again, and then opened his eyes and looked up.

"Agh," He whimpered as his head and neck protested, then memories came back, "oh that bloody bathroom ceiling!"

Then he remembered the Dappy Door knockers, only they weren't. They were Nickanan bastards. Cornish arseholes who appeared to have found him unconscious and thought it'd be a laugh to tie him to a tree for the night.

"No wonder they can only shag sheep," he grumbled to himself.

Then it registered that he could hear himself. He could vaguely hear outside himself too. His hearing was coming back. He thought of Hermione and then turned his head too sharply for his aching neck and bumpy head to cope with.

"Hermion-agghhhh! Shit that hurts!" He hissed.

He gingerly looked around himself, teeth gritted, and searched for her. They hadn't done the same thing to her, that was something. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back, against the tree trunk. Some parts of him felt better for it but his neck didn't like anything he was doing.

He tried to wriggle his hands free but he had big hands and the ropes binding him to the tree were very tight. His hands didn't even meet, the trunk was so large. He opened his eyes and looked up at the canopy above him. A fat drop of chilly dew slapped him just beneath the eye and he closed them again and lowered his head, letting it droop.

This angered his neck muscles a little less but it made his headache worse. He was shivering uncontrollably and he'd had enough of this.

Something sounded like a shout underwater and he frowned and looked around, his head throbbed but he tried to listen as best he could. It was like the sound large seashells make when held to the ears, something there but empty. A shower of dewdrops fell over his shoulders and down his bare back. He shuddered and yelped at the discomfort of doing so.

Looking up he saw a bird flying out of the tree, it had shaken one of the branches overhead. Ron grunted and tried to pull his arms free again, hoping the ropes were magical and faltering after a long night, but they wouldn't give.

A muffled voice made him flinch and he held his breath and froze dead. All he could hear was his own heart thumping. He started breathing rapidly and pulled on the ropes again, his shoulders were aching from being pulled so hard all night, but he had the never give up Auror attitude pushing him to grit his teeth and keep going.

He felt a twig snap beneath his bare foot and just about heard it echoing through the woods as well. He stopped to catch his breath and then heard more sounds. It was like a conversation being had in another room. He could tell it was a voice but couldn't make out the words.

"Hello?" He called out and then winced at how painfully loud it was inside his head.

Waiting for the ringing to stop he cracked open an eyelid and saw a flash of silver at his feet. Both eyes opened wide and he tried to find the silver thing again.

"Hello?" He whispered, so his head didn't ache from it again.

There was nothing.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he growled under his breath as he began struggling to move his hands up and down, hoping the friction from the trunk would start wearing through the fibres of the rope.

He kept at it from the light in the sky being blue to being pale, almost white. His skin beneath the ropes really hurt and he had to stop. One thing he'd noticed was that he'd been able to hear the rubbing of the ropes much clearer over the course of his attempt for freedom.

"Ron..."

He thought he'd heard it but he couldn't work out where it had come from. He looked around and tried to listen carefully, desperate to pick it up if he'd really heard his name from somewhere.

"I'm coming okay?" The muffled voice was like a person talking through a mouth full of marshmallow but he could make out words.

He looked around the woods again and then forced his painful neck to let him strain to look behind him as far as he could.

"Where are you?" He tried to call out, voice hoarse and volume limited by his sore head.

"I'm following my Patronus' I'll be there soon."

He looked down and saw a silver otter at his feet.

"Hermione?"

The Patronus faded away as soon as he saw it but he slumped against the trunk and heaved a deep sigh.

She was looking for him, she was coming for him, just a little longer and the night would be over.

* * *

As she followed the latest of her silver otters through the trees she couldn't help but imagine how furious Ron must be at being stolen in the first place.

They were right, he was her most valuable possession, of course she'd never think of a person being a possession and a relationship certainly doesn't mean ownership in any way, but he was the thing in her life most precious to her and they'd taken him as something of importance to her...

She was so caught up in exactly how she did think of Ron that she almost walked right past him.

"Hermione?" He croaked.

"Oh my God!" She gasped.

He was as white as a sheet, tied to a tree and visibly shaking. She ran towards him, tripped on a root, and then tore off her cloak to try and drape it around his shoulders.

"They left you like this?" She was amazed that the boys were stupid enough not to have given him a blanket or ropes that would wear off after a couple of hours.

The cloak wouldn't stay put, unable to hook over his shoulders because his arms were stretched outwards and around the tree trunk. She moved around the trunk to try and loosen the ropes. His wrists were raw and bleeding.

"Oh Ron." She whimpered as she tried to untie the knot with her fingers and then quickly resorted to using her wand.

The magic slowly worked the damp knot undone and she moved back around to stand before him again and got the cloak ready for when his arms fell. His arms weren't the only thing to fall, however. When Ron was freed he toppled forward and fell into her body. Both of them slammed down hard onto their knees and his body leaned into her like a dead weight.

He was numb and shivering. She pulled the cloak around him and rubbed her hands up and down his arms beneath it.

"It's all right, we'll get you home and put you to bed, nice and warm."

"We're...We're m-moving," he shuddered.

"I think we'll have to," she said, thinking about the mess.

"I hate Cornwall," he moaned.

"How did some silly boys overpower an Auror like this?"

"D-Didn't, the ceiling overpowered m-me!"

"Your hearing's back."

"Yeah, nearly."

"Good," she said as she rubbed his ice cold back, "I love you."

"Uh-huh," he shook even harder now that his blood was flowing properly.

"And I hate Cornwall too."


	3. Chapter 3 Mischief Night

_A/N The final Mischief Night! Sorry it's a bit late but I hurt my neck and couldn't really sit up to finish it yesterday. Ron and Hermione get up to the best kind of mischief of all._

**Mischief Night**

By November Ron and Hermione were well and truly settled into their new home, a flat in York, and even found the Muggle children trick or treating amusing. Notable was the fact that most were teenagers knocking on doors and asking for money and that half the time they had to explain to a pensioner exactly what trick or treating involved.

Their neighbour, a woman Ron made up far fetched stories about, had responded to the words 'trick or treat' with, "I'm not American" and a hastily slammed door.

"I bet she's furious that she had to get dressed to answer the door," Ron had said as they snuggled together on the sofa that evening.

"So now she's naked all the time is she?" Hermione giggled.

"She's having a non contact affair with the man who lives in the flat across the road. They have window sex and do things to themselves while the other watches."

"A non contact affair, does that count as actually having an affair?"

"If you were flashing the perv across the road and watching him wank I'd say you were cheating on me," Ron said, plainly.

"So what about when you admire ladies' breasts?" Hermione smirked.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Sometimes they're right there," Ron made a gesture with both hands before his chest, "but a discreet glance isn't the same as a secret un-harnessing of the boobs for a private peep show."

"It's still looking and getting turned on."

"No it's not!" Ron sat up. "It's looking and appreciating and being fascinated by...y'know, shapes and gravity?"

"So if I admire the bulge at the front of a man's trousers then-"

"Hermione!" Ron gasped in shock.

"How is that different?"

"Tits aren't genitals!"

Hermione snorted and then laughed.

"Boobs are nice to look at, a cock and balls really aren't," Ron insisted.

"They can be nice to look at," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Since when?" Ron demanded.

"Since... Well I like looking at yours."

Ron looked astonished and then stared down at his groin.

"Well they aren't _pretty_ but I like them." Hermione sighed and relaxed against Ron's chest once more.

"You do?"

"They're lovely."

"My bollocks can't be lovely," Ron said with a scrunched up face.

"Do you think my vagina's lovely?"

Ron's eyes were suddenly very wide.

"Is this a trick?"

"Just answer the question," she huffed.

"I don't think about it."

"Are my boobs lovely?"

"Yes!" Ron responded emphatically.

"Is my vagina ugly?"

"No, of course not."

"So there you have it, groins aren't horrible things all the time."

Ron settled back into the sofa cushions and thought for a moment.

"Are my...nipples lovely?"

"Your nipples?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"Well I don't have boobs, we've covered the only things I've got."

"Not the only things you've got," Hermione mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what, tell me?"

"It was nothing," Hermione said, innocently.

Ron was silent and thoughtful again. Then he whispered into the top of her head.

"Is my arse lovely?"

"Your arse is _divine_!" Hermione groaned.

Ron was so pleased with himself he forgot all about the woman in the other flat and her 'affair'.

Though Hermione had thought about Nickanan Night, and what had happened to Ron, she was pleased to see he wasn't carrying any anxiety about it during Halloween. Though it had come up as Halloween approached.

Ron had said that it was more than just kids with no social awareness or responsibility going a bit too far. He'd reminded her about how she felt during Dappy Door Night and she'd reminded him how he'd seen the whole thing as good clean fun then. She put it down to him just not enjoying the tradition he was used to executed so differently.

"They actually destroyed the doors, not knocking and hiding or throwing stones. They smashed down the doors and kidnapped somebody. That's not the same as putting a sundial on a boat!"

Hermione sighed and tried not to get into an argument with him. She did think that he'd spent so much time with the Aurors that he was seeing dark motives in everything. The more distance between her and the Voldemort years, the less suspicious Hermione was. It was as if she and Ron had crossed over.

Part of her was saddened by this, she hated to think of the things Ron had seen and been through that might have changed him so much. He'd come home some nights and not really talk at all for a good hour. When really bad things happened, like when one of Ron's friends had been crippled on the job and had to retire before they reached their thirtieth birthday, he had sat and talked to her about it. The ting was that his day to day experiences were often things he needed to leave at work. She'd find out from Ginny, or worse the paper, that Ron had been almost killed or in grave danger but he'd not mentioned a thing to her.

She'd made a point of having Ron fill out the form declaring that any time he was hospitalised she was to be notified. It had been almost monthly but she'd stuck to her insistence that she know every time. Fortunately most times it was cuts and bumps, occasionally a broken bone or recovery from stunning spells, but she never took him being hurt lightly.

The Nickanan lads hadn't knocked Ron out themselves, he'd had an unfortunate accident and they, caught up in the excitement of the night, hadn't realised that dragging him into the woods and leaving him in the cold all night was a tad unwise.

Ron was hyper suspicious and she was more relaxed.

This probably explained why, when November the fourth came along, Ron and Hermione had a blazing row over something called Mischief Night.

"But it's a Muggle thing, just like Halloween is now!" Hermione struggled to reason with the man who was throwing things into an overnight bag.

"It's yet another night were people can terrorise in the name of fun," Ron said angrily. "It doesn't happen in Devon, I'm staying at Mum and Dad's."

"But it did happen in Devon, you just knew what to expect there," she said as she tugged at his sleeve.

"I'm not taking any chances. So what if it's stupid? _I'm_ stupid so _I_ want to go somewhere else while Yorkshire smashes my front door in!"

"You are _not_ stupid," Hermione fumed and shoved him in the chest, "that is not your fall back way of shutting me up any more."

"So you're not coming?" Ron's face was reddening to match his ears.

"_You're_ not going!" Hermione blocked the doorway.

"This could be serious and since when did you not take precautions when it comes to our safety?" Ron was using his Auror voice, something he never did when talking to her.

"You're being ridiculous," she said, standing firm, "I understand that last time was very unnerving to you because you were defenceless without one of your senses but..."

"Without one of my senses, most of my clothes, and by w_and!_" Ron stepped right up to loom over her.

"Ron," she began, sternly.

"Take me seriously," he said, with a hint of betrayal behind his anger.

"I do," she paused to take his hand and squeeze, "I am taking you very seriously. If you have a spider encounter I don't laugh or tease you do I? Your fears are very serious to me."

"This isn't an irrational fear, I was left for dead in the freezing cold a few months ago!"

"You're talking like Mad-Eye Moody, everything isn't an attack. Everything isn't sinister. Sometimes children messing about is just children messing about," Hermione hated to see Ron lose his light hearted fun side to the Aurors.

"And he was bloody right! He was right up until he died and if people would have listened to him about 'dung he never would have died."

"He was lonely and miserable and bitter too!" Hermione said as she shoved him in the chest with both hands. "I don't want that to happen to you."

"If it'd happened to you I'd have taken it seriously," Ron mumbled as he pushed past her and headed for the door.

"I took it seriously!" She shouted at his back. "I walked around those woods all night looking for you. I was worried about you and I'm worried about you now."

"Are you coming?" He asked her.

Hermione thought back to the last time he asked her to go with him because his head was all over the place. She'd said no and she hadn't seen him for weeks. She'd said no and he thought she didn't want him.

"I'll come with you but I'm not conceeding defeat. You're still wrong."

"I'm always bloody wrong!" Ron spun around and snapped, arms flailing around him. "All I ask is that you let me be wrong but feel safe. I want to be wrong. I'm happy to be wrong about this but I don't want to be here tonight."

"That's fine," she rushed into his arms and clung to him, "that was all you needed to say. We'll go to a hotel in...Liverpool."

"They do it too, and Manchester," he said darkly, "I looked it up."

"Wow, you read, you really are taking this seriously."

Ron didn't laugh. She stroked his face and smiled.

"Where can we go?"

"They don't do it in Wales."

"So we'll get a room in Wales, Cardiff all right?"

Ron frowned.

"What happened in Cardiff?" Hermione sighed.

"Nothing dark, I just can't be seen in Cardiff for a while. We didn't get to modify all the memories, people got away from us."

"Okay, the valleys then?"

"Welsh greens think I'm Charlie and try to hump me," Ron said, blushing.

Hermione grinned.

"Well I don't want any competition for that," she said as she slid her hands down his back and crushed their bodies together. "Name your place and I'll find us a room."

"I was gonna go to Devil's Bridge," he said with a shrug.

"You feel safe in a place called Devil's bridge?" Hermione stared up at him in astonishment.

"It's perfectly safe, the dog's soul was taken and now it's safe for everyone," Ron said as if this was obvious.

"What about the poor dog?" Hermione asked, outraged.

"Hermione! This was _years_ ago, dark ages stuff. The dog was sacrificed so the people could be safe. it was a doggie martyr."

She shook her head.

"You're going insane over a game of Knock Down Ginger and yet the Devil Bridge Dead Dog is perfectly fine."

"They have a Jacob's Ladder there too," Ron said, tilting his head to one side.

"And by this you mean...?"

"A wonky stone stairway by a waterfall."

"Oh, well that _is_ nice," she said, pleasantly surprised.

She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him, softly, on the lips. He lifted her up a little way and kissed her deeper before humming and breaking away to rub his lips together.

"You have that fruit tasting stuff on again don't you?"

She nodded.

"It's nice." He smiled.

"So we're packing a bag and going to Devil's Bridge for the night." She dropped back down, flat onto her feet, and took his hands in her own.

He looked down at their feet and his shoulders fell.

"I'm sorry I'm such a... Sorry about this. I just have a really bad feeling ab-"

"Whatever makes you feel better," she said as he dipped her head to peer up at him. "I'm sorry you though I didn't take what happened to you seriously. It must have been horrible."

"I've had worse nights," he said with a one shouldered shrug and a half smile.

"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have tried to find reason in it and understand that...it just upset you."

"I really hate tempting fate y'know?"

"And you're usually right, like with Voldemort name. I trust your instincts and respect them. Let's go to Wales and see this waterfall of yours. Then we can have a nice night as Mr and Mrs Smith."

"But my name's Weasley."

"Yes I know but for a laugh, lets say we're Mr and Mrs Smith."

"How is that funny?" Ron frowned.

"Because people will think we're having an affair."

"How come?"

"Never mind," she sighed and set off to pack.

* * *

Ron was grinning as soon as the door of the little room of the guest house closed.

Hermione began to unpack while exploring the bathroom, examining the wardrobe and admiring the view.

"I said we wouldn't have the inclusive meals because I think it'll be nice to go out for dinner. What do you think? Also, I asked for one of those do not disturb signs to put on the door but they don't have them because they don't come knocking like they do in hotels. Don't you prefer this to a hotel?"

"I wouldn't know, Mrs Smith," Ron said, still grinning as he curled his arms around her from behind, "I've never been to one before."

"And I picked up some pamphlets about local sights to see and walking tours, we should have bought some wellies and anoraks, but we'll make do with one of those flimsy cheap cagoules they sell at the corner shop."

He nuzzled into the side of her neck and brushed his lips against her skin.

"Mmmmm, anoracks, wellies and cagoules...you know how to turn me on."

Hermione suddenly realised that Ron wasn't planning on leaving the bed, let alone the room.

"What brought this on?" She said as she turned in his arms and draped hers around his neck.

"It's Mischief Night and nobody's going to be banging on our door so we're...going to have to bang...each other!" His grin almost split his face in two.

"You're really excited about this aren't you?" She laughed.

"I've never had sex with a married woman before," Ron said, gleefully.

As he moved with her across the room, until the back of her legs bumped into the foot of the bed, Hermione marvelled at the change in him when the weight of worry was off his shoulders.

"You're like a kid again," she said in wonder, "where'd that serious Auror man go?"

Ron leaned forward and they tumbled onto the mattress, bouncing a little as they began to kiss. Hermione's hands fumbled around until they got a grip on Ron's jacket and pushed it back off his shoulders and then pulled it off completely.

"Nothing bad can happen at Devil's Bridge," Ron said as he crawled forward and straddled her, "now if we were in Truelove I'd be worried that my balls were going to be tied to a rabid goat or something but here..."

She reached up and crushed her mouth over his. They closed their eyes and pushed their tongues forward until they were curling together like a Yin and Yang symbol. She pulled Ron down on top of her and then rolled so he was underneath her.

"I love you Mr Smith," she gasped as pushed her fingers through his hair and then curled them around his skull to hold his head in place for a deep snog.

He was sucking on her tongue as if it was a piece of caramel melting in his mouth. He lapped at her mouth and massaged her lips with his own. She sighed into him and he broke the kiss to pant into her face.

"I'm sorry I was so weird about the Mischief night stuff but I really di-"

"We get to do this, you never have to apologise for wanting to do this," she kissed him firmly and they both grunted, then moaned, into the others mouth, "I love this."

Ron rolled her onto her back again and pulled her top up her body and over her head, while she lifted her arms. Just as he threw it aside and moved in to kiss her neck they heard a knock on the door.

"Oh _what?_" Ron growled and flung himself away from Hermione to storm across the floor and fling open the door.

A startled young woman stood at the door, clearly wary of Ron's dishevelled and disgruntled appearance at the door, and lifted a small platter of cream cakes.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, I just wondered if you and your wife would like..." she looked at the platter and then at Ron. "You're on your honeymoon aren't you? Never interrupt honeymooners, that's the rule, I'm so sorry."

"You knocked to give us cake?" Ron said, clarifying that this wasn't another pestering prankster.

"I did, yes, sorry."

Ron looked at the large silver plate full of cream cakes and then back up at the young woman.

"Can we have them all?"

"Of course you can!" She said, jumping and then handing over the platter.

Ron grinned at her and then winked before kicking the door closed with his foot and turning to Hermione.

"You and your stomach," Hermione was sighing as she sat up on the bed.

"No, I was thinking of your stomach," Ron said as he scooped a large cream filled choux pastry and approached her.

Hermione giggled nervously and shifted on the bed.

Ron perched on the corner of the bed and set down the platter. He held the cream filled pastry before him and flicked his tongue out to taste the cream.

"Mmmmmm."

Then he scooped the cream out and began smearing it over Hermione's stomach.

"Yup, this stuff went right where you don't want it, just like you said," Ron said before licking his lips and stooping over so his face was hovering above her newly decorated belly, "I'm gonna have to do something about this."

Hermione flung herself flat onto her back and closed her eyes with a groan.

"Honeymooners don't know what they're missing!"

"You can moon me with a honey coated arse later on," Ron murmured against her cream slathered belly before dragging his tongue along the crest of one of her hipbones.

"Mmmmmmm..." Hermione moved beneath his tongue as if she was on the receiving end of a full body snog.

Ron was licking his platter clean. Sucking clots of cream and flakes of light choux pastry from the smooth, glistening surface, before plundering the well in the centre. Hermione started giggling as he wriggled his tongue right down into her navel and soon she was gripping the hair at the back off his head and shoving it downward.

"Knock knock," Ron said as he slithered down her body and held her thighs with both hands, "I want cake and I'll keep on knocking until you give me some."

"What if I don't?" Hermione said as she slid her hands down her body and unbuttoned her trousers, shimmying them off beneath his body.

"Maybe I'll knock harder," Ron kissed the inside of her thigh as her pink skin was exposed, "or maybe I'll pester you until you come after me with a shoe."

"Put you over my knee and give you a good spanking?" Hermione said with a sigh and a wicked chuckle.

"Oh that'd be good," Ron said as he nuzzled her thin, pale blue, knickers.

"_Eat an éclair!_" She made him jump with her abrupt order and he started up the length of her body at her face.

"You want me to eat an éclair?" Ron repeated.

Hermione shuffled her trousers off and kicked them away from where they were bunched about her ankles. She grabbed the pillow behind her head with both hands and nodded with a 'Mmmm-hmmmmm'.

Ron sat up and reached back to grab an éclair. When he turned back Hermione was peeling off her knickers with one hand while reaching for him with the other. Her hand was sliding up and down his denim-clad thigh and she was looking at him with huge dark eyes.

"I want you to eat the whole thing with no hands," she said, voice husky and hungry, "and I want to serve it to you."

Ron swallowed and looked down, between her legs, and then back up at her. He was still holding the chocolate cream cake in his hand. She slipped the phallic pastry from his palm and placed it between hr legs.

Ron licked his lips and slid his hands up both her legs until he was holding them apart, éclair on display before him.

"I see by the latch, there is something to catch," Ron began to say in a playful, sing-song voice.

"Eat it!" Hermione growled.

Ron began to wolf the éclair down, almost literally from the noises he was making between her legs, and Hermione arched her back away from the bed and thanked the stars for her orally fixated boyfriend.

"I LOVE BEING MRS SMITH!" She screamed out just as Ron plundered the last of the cream with the tip of his talented tongue.

"How would Mrs Smith feel about becoming Mrs Weasley?" Ron asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reached back to pick a bite size, pink, rose macaroon off the platter.

He lay alongside her and held the layers of pink discs and fragrant cream to her lips.

"I would love to be Mrs Weasley," she said as she reached forward and plucked the delicacy from between his fingers. "I hate Cornwall for you," she devoured and swallowed the sweet treat and then reached for Ron's lips, "I'll run away from every Mischief Night with you," she kissed him and they sucked upon the sweetness of each other's tongues, "I'll pretend to be having an affair with you, "she pressed him down into the mattress, "I'll honey coat my backside for you."

"How about you take my jeans off for me?" Ron suggested as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Get it all off," Hermione said as she set about unfastening his fly.

Ron was a very fast stripper, she put it down to him having to get into the one bathroom at the Burrow before five older brothers made it filthy and disgusting. Either that or he just loved to be naked.

She loved him naked too.

"I'm going to decorate you," she said as she lifted three fruit tarts from the platter of cakes and picked two berries from the shiny glaze, "lie still for me and I'll..."

She placed the blueberries onto Ron's nipples, where they stuck thanks to the glossy glaze. Then she lifted a halved strawberry and set it over his heart, smiling to herself in a way that made Ron laugh.

"Don't jiggle about, it'll slip!" She said as she lifted two pieces of Kiwi fruit from the rapidly emptying tartlet case.

She laid them on each of his shoulders and then pushed him flat onto his back so he couldn't watch anymore.

"Don't move, I'm not finished yet, and if any of this falls off I'm tying you to a tree."

"As long as you're not leaving me there for the night..." Ron said with a nervous laugh. "Promise to tie me somewhere warm?"

"Bed all right?" Hermione dragged a mandarin segment across his belly, tickling him a little and he had to bit his lip to keep his blueberry nipples from rolling off.

She lowered a cherry into his belly button and sat back on her haunches to admire her fruity Ron. She put a segment of peach between her teeth and advanced towards his face with it protruding like a glistening orange tongue. Ron lifted his head off the pillow and reached for her, careful not to let the fruit slide off his body as he did, and she fed him the peach from mouth to mouth.

"Fruit's nice too," she said as she licked her sweet, sticky lips, and then pushed them against Ron's to suck at them, "just as nice as chocolate and cream."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of chocolate and cream with your fruit though," Ron said and leaned hard into a kiss as she slowly pulled away, coaxing him along after her.

He felt a slice of kiwi slipping from his shoulder and fell back onto the pillow with a chuckle. Hermione lunged at him to catch the piece of fruit as it fell and ate it while running her hand down his arm. She pinned it down at the elbow and then stooped to lap at the viscous juices and syrupy glaze left behind.

"You make a yummy fruity tart, Mr Smith," she said as she moved to gobble up the kiwi from his other shoulder.

"Wait 'till you get your chops around my ginger snap," Ron laughed before biting his lip as she trailed kisses along his collarbone and then began nuzzling into the side of his neck. "What did you put there that was so delicious?"

She looked up and kept her eyes on him as she nibbled on his earlobe.

"You."

He moved his arm and squeezed her bottom with his large hand. She kissed him behind the ear and then on the lips, Adam's apple, chest, and then tickled along his ribs with her lips.

"You're wicked," Ron said through his giggles.

She arched her eyebrow and then swooped upon his strawberry heart, devouring it in one go. She sucked at his skin until she left a mark, a strawberry shaped mark, where her treat had been, and then set about plucking the blueberries from his nipples.

The first simply made Ron catch his breath but the second urged him to lift his hips and rub himself against her.

"Not yet," Hermione purred, "I have to clean you up first."

With that she took each of his nipples between her lips and sucked the sticky glaze off.

"Oh God!" Ron clenched his fists and closed his eyes, his nipples being a particularly sensitive area when it came around to foreplay, and he squirmed below the waist as she suckled the last of the sugary gel away.

"Just need to lose that cherry and we're done," she said as she slithered down his long body and dug the rich, cherry out from his perfect belly button.

"We are _far_ from done," Ron groaned.

She chewed on the cherry, releasing the juices into her mouth and sucking on them, indulgently.

"Don't you worry," she said, pausing to swallow the last of her fruity-Ron-tart, "I've still got room for your ginger snap."

Just as ginger was about to start snapping there was a knock on the door.

"GO AWAY!" They both shouted.

This was going to be the most mischievous night of all.


End file.
